


Dog Fights

by Patchouli (lifelesslyndsey)



Series: How To Teach An Old Dog New Tricks [17]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, First argument, Mentions of Darcy/Clint, Mild Angst, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifelesslyndsey/pseuds/Patchouli
Summary: Tony rounds the kitchen island and busies himself with the coffee pot, avoiding her gaze. He thinks they might be fighting, a little bit, and he’s in his fucking underwear and she still has a cunt full of his spunk. He doesn’t like it





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like thirty-seven times, and this is the lighthearted one.

Tony and Darcy are very much _together_.

 

They work together, live together, spend more time than is probably healthy together. They take shifts popping into each others workspace for lunch. They grumble and fumble around each other in the morning, Darcy half dead behind a coffee cup, Tony drinking some very green goop Pepper told him is good for _men his age_ . Darcy shuffles Tony into meetings, they have been known to pull up video chats from her office and his lab, both dick-deep in whatever project Stark Industries has thrown at them.  They come to bed at different times, sometimes not at all, they _fuck_.  

 

But rare is the day that they have nothing to do, and do said nothing _together_.

 

Rare is today.

 

They make a late morning of it, sleepy fumbling turning to something decidedly more intent until they’re fucking themselves into cognizance. Half-dressed, sloppy, easy morning sex; Tony’s not sure he’s ever had this in his life. Not even with Pepper, who had her passions, but of which did not exist outside traditional evening hours. Not ten-thirty on a Tuesday morning with his boxer briefs snagged up under his balls, and her silly cherry print panties pushed to the side.  When they finally do fall out of bed, to make their way just as naked into the kitchen, Tony gets distracted by the curve of her neck, pale and inviting. He’s not a good enough person to live this good a life, he’s sure of it. But here he is, sucking hickies into the sugar baby love of his life in his underwear like he can’t reasonably round his age up to fifty.

 

“Oh wait---don’t,” Darcy wriggles away from him, smiling when he moves from licking at her skin to dragging his morning scruff all over her. “I have a wedding to go to on Thursday.”

 

“Oh?” He pauses, ruminating on that. She’d mentioned going out of town, but she hadn’t said what for. He’d assumed something boring. And well - weddings _are_ boring.  “Where?”

 

“Back home.” She turns to face him, lets him cage her in against the counter with his arms. “Friend from high school. Not even like...A very good friend. Family friend. I don’t necessarily want to go, but I know....Well. Lou’d give me hell if he could remember who I was long enough to stop pinching my ass.” She rolls her eyes as Tony slides a hand down to cup her ass, and squeeze. He’d live a life with his hand on her ass if he could get away with it.  As it is, he tries his best. “I thought I’d stay until Monday. Check up on the shop, make sure Red’s got everything handled there.”

 

“Want some company?” He’s not set to sink himself into any big projects until at least next Thursday, when Bruce gets back from Guatemala with the--stuff. She makes a face he almost doesn’t catch. Almost. Except for how he does catch it, and doesn’t like it at all. It’s---not a good look. “Unless you already have a date?”

 

“No, it’s not that--- I RSVP’d with a plus one months ago, figuring I’d take Clint or something, but nothing official it’s just...” She makes the face again, nose wrinkled. “I mean. That’s kind of a big step. You’d be meeting my family. Lou’s family.”

 

Tony pulls himself away slowly, lest she realize that she’s just kicked him in the emotional testicals. “Oh. Alright. That’s---reasonable.” It is reasonable. It’s perfectly fucking reasonable. They haven’t been dating that long, after all, and she’s young. Tony knows he’s farther ahead in the race, than she is. Little deeper in the water, and all that. Tony already loves her, and she still doesn’t like to hold his hand in public.  She’s---affectionate, yes. She’s his girlfriend. Officially, even, in cap locks on several trashy tabloid spreads. Tony Stark’s New Girlfriend.  Shit, he told the entire Stark Expo she was his girlfriend, but that didn’t matter much when _no one could identify her._ Tony suspected a Pepper-shaped intervention, but he never could figure out how to bring it up without sounding kind of...whiney. “When do you leave on Thursday?”

 

Darcy looks up at him, mouth quirked to the side. “You’re mad.”

 

“What?” He blinks at her. He’s not mad, actually. He’s---he just feels weird is all. In the emotional-testical region. It’s not a thing. It’s not a _big_ thing. “Not at all.  I’ll...Miss you, is all.” That doesn’t sound even remotely like something he’d ever say, and he knows he’s just thrown his own ass into the fire by the look she gives him, one brow arched. “What? I _will_ miss you.”

 

“I’m _sure_ , but that’s not the problem.” She stands up straighter, and Tony can almost see the gears shift from sleepy, morning-sexed Darcy to the one that was fully prepared to shoot a man in Central Park.  Agent Lewis. She’s---agenting him. He doesn’t like it. “Why would you even want to go to some backwater podunk wedding in fucking Wisconsin?”

 

Tony rounds the kitchen island and busies himself with the coffee pot, avoiding her gaze. He thinks they might be fighting, a little bit, and he’s in his fucking underwear and she still has a cunt full of his spunk. He doesn’t like it. “Don’t recall saying that I did.”

 

“You’re being _weird_.” She leans over the counter, and for once, Tony doesn’t lose focus in the flash of tits. He turns instead, to pull her coffee cup down from one of the cupboards.  Darcy sighs. “Wow. You’re actually upset. Why the hell are you upset?”

Tony doesn’t know how to protest the accusation when he realizes she might actually be a little bit...like eight to thirteen percent...right. He is upset. A little. A little upset. He shakes his head, words failing him, and slams the mug a little too hard under the machine. There’s something lodged in his esophagus that he’s sure isn’t tangible but just as choking and he’s pretty sure it’s a fucking feeling. He clears his throat. “You wanna take one of my private jets? I could probably find somewhere closer for you touch down, so you don’t have to drive forty five minutes from the airport. Nat might take you down in the quintjet, even.”

 

“Tony.” There’s something in her voice that makes him look up at her. Something small and sort of...Tony’s certain he’s never heard it before from her, but if he had to name it, he’d say...Hesitant. Worry-adjacent. “What did I do wrong?”

 

Not worried. _Resigned_ . It’s so violently unlike her,  he crumbles like a KIA in a six car pile-up. He licks his teeth, thinks about how he said he’d want to show her off, the day they’d started this---thing.  He wants the whole fucking world to know who she is, and who she is to him.  He’s a fucking billionaire vigilante hero and a tabloid slut.  Darcy was too, before this. When they called her an escort, or his PA or his bodyguard or that one time, his long-lost daughter. They call her his girlfriend, Tony Stark's Girlfriend, but they never call her Darcy Lewis and it’s _fine_. It’s just unlikely. So unlikely, that Tony knows it’s intentional. And it’s the intent that fucking bothers him. “You---You’ve been keeping your name out of the papers.”

 

She startles at that - like she doesn’t understand the connection to the wedding. “Not me.” She gives him a tight little smile, and Tony believes her, but it doesn’t make him feel better.

 

He nods, because Darcy’s a smart girl. Brilliant and mean and fierce, but she’s not seasoned enough to get around all the press. “Who?”

 

She drums her nails across the counter and the acrylic _click click click_ is too loud. Tony can feel his blood pressure rising. The morning was going so well. “Think about who else we don’t see in the papers.”

 

“Barton and Nat.” Tony feels jaw tick. “SHIELD’s doing you favors, then?” It’s gotta be a big job, scrubbing her name from everything. But he thinks Darcy probably helps - prefers cash, avoids signing in to anything. She’d managed to evade the name badges at the Expo by hanging on his arm like a fucking tart, and no one had introduced her, before she introduced him.  There’s plenty of photos of her, but they’re never perfectly clear. He’d looked up the photog from the expo to buy the picture of him kissing her and it---had seemed out of focus, some how. They’re all a little bit like that. It’s intentional. It’s purposeful. She’s a watercolor blur on his arm. People know who she is though, and he doubts everyone at Stark Industries is so loyal, they wouldn’t sell her name for a decent dollar. So it’s not Phil; it’s too big a job for Coulson.  Either SHIELD’s banking it, or they’ve got someone by the short and curlies in the top-five junkets.  Could be either.

 

She reels a little at that, or maybe just the sharp tone in his voice. “Who said I asked them too?”

 

Tony supposes that’s fair. It’s just. He’s not fucking _buying_ it.  “You ask them _not_ too?” She hesitates and---Tony’s a little taken aback by the wash of anger that bubbles up inside him. “Am I at least allowed to know why you don’t want to be associated with me?” Because there’s no way she’d care about what the Press would say about her.  In fact, she takes great pleasure in reading all the speculations as to who she is, and what she does. She can’t be worried they’ll dig up her sad little history; it doesn’t fucking _exist_. There is no paper trail. All she is, topside, is an college dropout turned Pepper Potts protege. Self-rescuing Cinderella; the press would fucking eat it up, wouldn’t even bother to look deeper. “Are they blackmailing you?”

“That’s not---” She shakes her head, messy bun falling to the side a little. “That isn’t it.” Of course not; that would be too easy. That would hurt less.

 

“Then what is it?” Tony all but explodes, hands clenching as he grinds his knuckles into the marble countertop of the kitchen island. “Explain it to me in small words since I’m a fucking idiot.”

 

“We’ll you’re acting like a fucking child, at any rate,” Darcy snaps back. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

 

“You’re right!” She's right, but it doesn’t make him feel better. “Don’t tell me why you don’t want your name anywhere near mine. That’s fine. It’s. Whatever.” He throws his hands up, feeling disgusted and naked and stupid. He stares at the wall behind her head and thinks about how she was with Bruce. It must have been easier to keep a distance, with a man just as happy out of the spotlight. But then, she’d had the endgame planned on their relationship from the start. A sick, hot feeling slices through the anger and Tony feels...suddenly, very cheap. “Tell me sugar, you got an expiration date on us too? Already got my next girlfriend lined up?”

 

She blinks at him and Tony hates how fucking---innocent she looks. It pisses him off. “What?”

 

“Enjoy the fucking wedding,” he snaps, marching around the island, down the hall and toward the bedroom. “Clint’s probably free!” She was---she was going to take her fucking fuck buddy to this fucking wedding to meet her fucking family, but she thinks it might be weird to take _him_. He has somehow come to rate beneath Barton. Nice. He slams the door hard enough that Jarvis interrupts.

 

“ _Sir_ ,” he says, carefully. “ _Might I be of any assistance?_ ”

 

He throws his hands up, because---just because. “I’ve locked myself in my room like a petulant teenager,” Tony says, to the ceiling in general. “By all means. What next? A little emo music?  I could blog about my angst.”

 

 _“Ms. Lewis_ ,” Jarvis says instead, dropping a holoscreen against the far wall.  She’s right where he left her thirty-seven seconds ago except she’s crying and Tony sort of---doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s never seen Darcy cry before. Her go-to emotion is, and always has been, anger.  A part of him, a petulant teenager part of him, doesn’t think she has the fucking _right_ to be upset.  She’s not the one being treated like a one-night stand.

 

She’s not an ugly cryer and Tony doesn’t think that’s fair either.  She’s not gross-sobbing, not heaving or even especially red-face and puffy. He does see a little hiccup escape her and it sort of breaks his heart. He could do without Jarvis bringing it in for a close up of fat, salty tears slipping down her pale cheeks.  “God dammit.”  He pulls a pair of pants on - he’s not doing this fucking naked- before slipping back out of the room.

 

She startles when he slips back into the kitchen, looking down like he might not notice the tears. “You’re playing dirty,” he grumps. He’s just...a fucking sucker. He waves at her face, the tears. “This is not fair.” He pulls her against his chest so he can’t see the tears. “I am not wrong.”

  


“I didn’t ask shield to scrub me,” she tells his arc reactor instead of his face. “But I didn’t tell them to mind their own fucking business because...Well. It’ll be a lot easier to go back to my normal life when this blows over, if I’m not...known.”

 

Tony recoils away from so hard, he feels his back twinge. “So you do have an expiration date.”

 

She wraps her arms around herself. “No I just---It’s just...”

 

“It’s just what?” He’s still a little angry, and it spills out, toxic and mean. She flinches and Tony just---wants an answer.

 

“This can’t really work.” She looks up at him. “This---you and me. This is. Fucking _nonsense_.”

 

Tony wants to lie to himself and say she should have told him that before they fell into it together, but the truth of it is.... Darcy never fell and Tony hit the bottom months ago. “Right.”

 

“All of this is fucking nonsense,” Darcy continues, like she isn’t digging her stilettos into his soul. “This fucking---Job. This---what the fuck am I doing in this penthouse? What the fuck am I doing in New York? I can’t---I mean. This is not--- I can’t be your girlfriend. This is the stupidest shit I have ever even fucking---And this goddamn wedding is just---driving it home.”

 

“Yeah, I heard you.” He smiles tightly, and wishes he’d not been a sucker for a crying girl. He should have stayed in is fucking room, petulant and miserable but not actively falling apart. “I’m gonna---go be somewhere that isn’t here. Feel free to do the same if you’re so unhappy.”

 

“I’ve never been happier in my fucking life and that’s how I know this is probably not going to work.” She scrubs a hand in her hair, little flyaway curls framing her face. “Tony---Look at me.” She waves a hand down her body, like it means something. “I don’t---belong here. With you. In my office. In this fucking city---I---” She shakes her head, both eyebrows high. “I keep fucking up and ending up in these--- _places._ Places I don’t belong. New Mexico. SHIELD. Here? I can’t--I don’t belong here. This is the dumbest shit---why the hell am I here? Standing in your fucking kitchen, how the hell did this happen?”

 

“Nepotism and circumstance,” Tony deadpans. He needs a fucking drink, nevermind that it’s eleven fifteen in the morning. That’s---plenty late enough. “I don’t know what you want.”

 

“I don’t want anything,” she says, sounding strangely incredulous. “How could I want anything --- I fucking have everything. I have...wildly more than I deserve. I have---this whole fucking life doesn’t make sense. You. You don’t make sense.”

 

“ _Me_?”

 

“I don’t know why you’re with me.” She looks at him, lashes still wet though she’s no longer crying. “And I don’t know how long it’ll last so I don’t---I need to be able to go back to my normal life when all this falls apart. And I can’t do that if everyone knows I’m Tony Stark’s ex girlfriend. You think---If I take you to meet my family that’s just going to be another fuck up they bring up every time they see me. Remember that time you dropped out of college? Remember that time you got a tramp stamp tattoo out of s van in a Walmart parking lot. Remember that time you dated Tony fucking Stark?”

 

“Well.” Apparently, he didn’t want an answer, because Tony doesn’t actually feel better.  Feels worse, with every word she says. “I---” He’s never been the type to think he was any kind of catch but this is... Tony would like to be literally any fucking where but right where he is in this second. He’s happy he put on pants, because he thinks hearing this naked would actually kill him. He thinks waking strapped to a battery in a fucking cave felt better.  He thinks --- that this hurts. “Okay. Right. So. I’m---going somewhere else. Anywhere that isn’t here actually because I kind of want to puke and I’m not even hungover.  Before I was just angry, now I feel like crap so...You know. Good job being a heinous bitch.”

 

She snorts, but it’s not a happy sound. “If I can rely on nothing else, I can rely on my habitual and consistent history of making everyone around me fucking miserable. Sorry, guess I could have lead with that from the start.”

 

 Tony matches her snort with a truly incredulous laugh. “Or you could have lead with how you’re embarrassed to be seen with me? I mean Christ, Darcy. I was pretty fucking clear when I said I wanted a relationship. If you thought you could do better---If you just wanted another --- what? Fuck buddy? You could have had the decency to kick me in the balls then and not several months into ---this.” He wipes a over his mouth, feels his face do something funny, a hot flush stealing over his cheeks.  “How many people are fucking laughing at me behind my back right now? Gimme a head count. Can I look Cap in the eye? Barton? Bruce?”

She sits down, so abruptly Tony almost thinks she’s fallen, but no - she sits on his kitchen floor, cross legged in her underwear and stares at the neat white tiles.  Tony does not join her. He stares at her, while she stare at nothing. “In what fucking world,” she says, quite and slow, “could I ever do better you?”

 

Tony rewinds on everything he said, but frankly he said a lot. Too much, really. “What?”

She looks up at him, wide eyed but mostly blank-faced. “How could you even think for a single fucking second that I---that I think I’m better than you?”

 

“Are we having the same goddamn conversation here? How can you ask me that?” It isn’t a fair question, everything said and done in the last soul-crushing twenty minutes. “How could I fucking not? You want to take Barton to this---to meet your family, but you can’t take me? Because I’m just another one of your fuck-ups, apparently.”

 

“No, because I’d have to hear how I fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me when I inevitably end up back in that shit town because - because I'm---apparently, I’ve been fucking this up from the fucking start.” A shocked, high laugh spills from her mouth. “Tony---I have no idea why you want to date me. That’s what I meant. I am---nothing. I do not belong here. And eventually that’s going to catch up with me and I’m going to end up on my ass, and I don’t honestly know how I can go back to being what I was, after being who I am with you right now. So I---have to keep some of what I was---”

 

“That’s the dumbest shit I have ever heard you say.” He slides to the floor, knees protesting. “I could date almost anyone I want---”

 

“Please, continue to prove my point---”

 

“I want you, you fucking idiot.” It’s not nice. He’s not feeling very nice right now. Mostly he’s confused, and it’s just pissing him off more. Darcy’s always going to be the equation he can’t solve. The math will never add up. “Have I not made that clear? Have I fucking failed you so badly, that you don’t know that? I’m not the one setting myself up for our eventual break up. That’s not me. You’ve already got one foot out the door. How are you going to say that _I_ don’t want _you_?”

 

She’s a little hunched in on herself, a little rabbity, wary. It’s making Tony feel like a dick. “I’m---convenient. I...I’m always here. In the tower. In your space. I just--it’s like Stockholm Syndr---”

 

“Oh please,” Tony cuts her off, a dervish little snort. “I’m not Stockholmed---if anyone’s Stockholmed here, it’s you. I mean, I’m you’re boss, your landlord---”

 

Darcy _pouts_ at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

 

“You’re the least convenient person I’ve met in all my fucking years of existence. Which _double_ yours, if you forgot. You’re easy yeah, not convenient.  Okay, let’s recap. You’re letting SHIELD scrub you from my file, essentially, so when we break up you can go back to being cheese-farm Darcy Lewis without anyone knowing you used to ride my dick, that sound about right?”

 

“Cheese Farm?”

 

“I don’t honestly know what else comes out of Wisconsin,” Tony admits.

 

“Heinous bitches?”

 

“I’m not taking it back.” She is a bitch. When it’s not aimed at him, Tony loves it about her. “Did I miss anything?”

 

“It’s not unreasonable,” Darcy argues, but only mildly. “Neither of us have a strong history of healthy and long-lasting relationships. We’re both flaky and emotional unreliable. We get bored easily. Distracted. Not to mention, our mutual propensity for risky behavior and potential for crippling alcoholism.”

 

It’s all very true. Darcy actually drinks more than Tony. “Yeah but I figure if we’re both like that...it’s safe.” Perhaps not the best way to word it. “I mean...We can both be drunk, emotionally stunted, flaky assholes together. I find it a refreshing twist on any previously attempted relationship.” Tony sighs. He did tell her he’d be happy to spend the next fifty years convincing her this was a good idea. He supposes five months isn’t shit. He just didn’t expect it to be so emotionally ball kicky.

 

“I slept with Clint last week,” Darcy tells him, frank and firm. It’s thrown like a gauntlet. She raises her chin up, and sniffs at him, the haughty little shit. “I didn’t feel the need to tell you.”

 

Tony knows he shouldn’t laugh, but he does. “Yeah, he wrote CLINT WAS HERE on your left ass cheek when you were sleeping.”  When he’d found it - sharpie marker a little faded from her shower - the next day, he’d made a point to bust his nut right over Clint’s name, with a laugh. “Do you want me to fuck someone else? To make it even, or something?” A threesome could be a considered a relationship building exercise, probably. Right?

 

“ _No_ ,” Darcy bursts out, and it honestly surprises him. “See - this isn’t gonna work.”

 

“Are you fabricating reasons to sabotage us, or do you really not want me to sleep with other people?”  He’s --- pretty sure he could deal with not sleeping with other people. He has no inclination to right now, perfectly content to bury himself in Darcy. And honestly, if she continues to spring herself on him as frequently as she does---well he’s old. He can only get it up so many times and she’s doing her best to wring all he’s got and a little bit more out of him every day. Still - he would like the option, if she’s stepping out too.

 

She pouts a little harder, and picks at the edge of her sock. “I don’t know.”

 

Tony laughs again, just a little. “What?”

 

“I don't know. I don’t--I could be...looking for reasons,” she admits, looking past him, brow furrowed. “It’s something...I’ve been known to do in the past. When I start getting...comfortable.”

 

“Beware the self-sabotage. Check.” Tony pulls her into his lap, and runs his hands up and down her bare legs, back pressed against the kitchen island.  “I pick fights,” Tony admits. “When things are easy. I...like to make things hard. I don’t know why. Give it time. It’ll happen.”

 

“You said _I_ was easy,” Darcy teases, pressing a little kiss into the curve of his jaw. It feels like an apology. 

 

“And look at the fight I just picked.” Tony misread the entire situation. It’s not--it isn’t his fault, necessarily. But he hadn’t handled it like a fucking adult, either.

 

“Sorry about--” She sighs, melting into him. “I’ll deal with SHIELD.”

 

Which creates its own question, really. “If you didn’t ask them to do it...Why are they?”

 

“Standard procedure actually,” Darcy leans back. “For any active or previous agent. Someone identifies me now, they might identify me from before. I didn't’ top-side many missions, but there were a few. They use a very wide spread photo recognition software that runs in the background of every Apple, Android, Stark, and Microsoft device. It’s attached to the Facebook App. A few other apps too, but that’s the big one.  Downloads itself right onto the device as soon as someone logs in, and runs in the background constantly, cross referencing pictures with Agents on file and destroying quality with implanted light flares and blur hazing. So they might take it with a normal camera, but as soon as they upload it to anything with an internet connection...it’s done. It's got a 67% accuracy world wide,a and about 90% in hot bones can like New York and DC.  They’re working on something to scrub live-feed too; right now they just fritz it as it comes.”

 

That’s---fucking genius, actually. Tony’s impressed. He wonders if it came from his labs.

 

“Is it safe? For you to be recognized, or whatever?” He wishes he knew what she’d done for SHIELD after they pulled her out of their cellar. But just like she doesn’t ask about the cave, he doesn’t push it.

 

“It isn’t any more dangerous than being your girlfriend.” Which isn’t a yes. “And I figure - if I’m not safe with you, here?  Safe isn't an option.”

 

That’s true, Tony concedes.  Darcy’s in this ivory tower for a reason, after all. He squishes her against him until she squeals and wriggles. “So can I come to this fucking wedding with you or what?”

 

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Think you can suck it up and be like...rich and hot and brilliant? And handsy? I’ll wear something slutty, you do the rest. I don’t want to set the bar really high or they’ll start inviting us to everything.”

 

Tony smiles into her hair. “I mean, I’ll try but no promises.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for affectionate use of the word dyke by an elderly person. Don’t yell at me, it’s realistic in the midwest. 
> 
> Unapologetic mention of abortion (not a current situation). 
> 
> Also, I make fun of the Midwest. A lot. Meanly and with great spite. I myself, hale from Michigan, but I’ve been an Indiana resident for ten years and it’s a trash heap full of corn and Republicans like garbage Vice Presidont Pence.
> 
> I had a REALLY hard time writing this. I don’t know why! It just got---really sad. While this has its angst - I was getting a little dark. And that isn’t what this story is about. So many rewrites happened.
> 
>  
> 
> My intentions with this part of the story were to put Tony in Darcy’s world. We see Darcy killin’ it in Tony’s. I just wanted to Put Tony out of his element. Slummin it with hilljacks.

 

 

As part of her reparations for making Tony feel like an absolute fuck, Darcy lets him pick out her dresses. Lets is probably an exaggeration on his part.  _ Tolerates _ , perhaps.  _ Resigns  _ herself too, even. “For the full four days,” he insists, because (with one of America’s largest dairy producers in mind, Wisconsin) Tony’s not afraid to milk the situation. “And shoes. And underwear.” And jewelry. And whatever else he can squeeze in there. “And you don’t get to see it until we’re there.” 

 

The reparations are being made with a fair amount of reluctance, but Tony doesn’t let that curb his enthusiasm.  Darcy gives him a flat sort of look. “I have clothes. I don’t like these people enough to buy new clothes.” 

 

“Good, because you’re not buying anything, sugar.” He grins. In truth, he’s had a number of things picked out already, Darcy’s specific measurements locked in his mind. He slips things into her half of his generous closet on the regular, and gets a little thrill every time she wears them. “What are you doing for a wedding gift? I usually just sign checks.” There were few people who invited Tony to weddings, mostly colleagues or the random celebrity. Tony only ever went to the ones Pepper made him.  Weddings were boring. 

 

“Please don’t,” Darcy closes her eyes and sighs. “I sprung for a Kitchen Aid Mixer off Amazon and had it shipped last week. No checks, but you can sign the card.” 

 

Tony doesn’t know what a Kitchen Aid Mixer is, or it’s measure as a wedding gift, but he’s not going to tell her that. “How generous of you.” 

 

“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” she tells him, with a little lilt in her voice as she pulls her leggings up over her ass. They’d spent the bulk of yesterday working through some very fine Makeup Sex.  Today, it’s back to business. “But believe me when I say the mixer will be the most expensive present they get.  The receptions’ in a  _ barn _ . Keep that in mind when you’re picking out my shoes.” 

 

Tony makes a face. “...like an actual barn?” How...quaint. Tony wonders if there will be animals.

 

“An actual barn,” Darcy confirms, adjusting her tits into a distracting blue bra. The deep navy color contrasts perfectly with her smooth skin, and Tony makes a note to find a dress in that exact shade. “It’s on a pear orchard.  I think someone’s uncle owns it, or something. I don’t know. It was probably cheap. It’s the boons, Tony. Most people get married at the courthouse and celebrate at the bar. An actual wedding is a novelty. Half the people there will probably be in the same jeans they wore to work. We’re not fancy.” 

 

Though he has zero interest in nuptials, that sounds preferable to Tony. He’s not put a lot of thought into marriage, even with Darcy. Can’t picture her in some sort of frothy, lacy dress before all their friends and family. Can’t imagine watching her walk down an isle. Who would walk her, anyway? Coulson? That would probably be weird. Cap, maybe? But no. Tony’s not actually sure he knows any men of relevance Darcy  _ hasn’t  _ slept with. It doesn’t upset him, so much as amuse him deeply. He’s imagined Pepper in a wedding dress a number of times, but never at an alter than ended with him. Tony’s not that kind of punctuation.  Tony’s more of a run on sentence. Darcy though---  He’s gunning to be the dick she rides forever, side-dick notwithstanding, but he can’t imagine marrying her.  He can’t imagine her marrying anyone.

 

“Will there be booze in this barn, at least? And pending a no, how can we rectify this mishap?” What if they’re church people? What if they don’t believe in alcohol. 

 

But no - that seems unlikely. He’s met  _ Darcy _ , after all. And these are her people. 

 

Darcy yanks her shirt over her head and shoots him an amused look. “It’s the  _ boons _ , Tony. Of course, there will be booze.” She pauses. “But maybe we bring our own anyway.” 

 

_ *** _

 

Tony rents a suite at a Holiday Inn. A  _ Holiday Inn _ . It only has four floors. He has to buy out someone else staying in their  _ best  _ room, and it’s still cheaper than most the suites he’s stayed in.  It’s not significantly different, either, but Tony knows a majority of what you pay for in regards to anything is the name.  And the name on this says Holiday Inn. So yeah, it’s not the Ritz, but the sheets are clean and the carpets plush, and the bathroom’s bleached enough to meet Tower standards.  His chartered helicopter is still parked on the roof. He could have chartered a plane instead, to a private strip only ten minutes from her town, but he enjoys being an ostentatious, self-important bastard and Darcy  _ did  _ ask for a rich, attractive, brilliant show. Never let it be said that Tony can’t provide. 

 

He carries their bags to the room with a general sense of novelty. He’s Tony Stark in Small Town America, carrying his own suitcase down a set of service stairs in a Holiday fucking Inn.  _ Express _ . He can see the interstate from the top floor, a stunning view of five zipping lanes. The suitcase alone cost more than anyone of their rooms, and the contents within are enough to make him almost feel like a dick. Almost, but not quite. He doesn't tell Darcy about buying out the hotel room from someone else. She sometimes has trouble squashing the remainder of her middle-class guilt when purchasing thirty-two dollar leggings from stay-at-home mothers off Instagram. Tony has spent more on a single sock . [1] It’s best left unsaid. 

 

The church is quaint and white and within  _ walking distance  _ of the hotel. Tony knows having a car in his part of New York is a novelty, but it’s a novelty he'd never lived without. Tony Stark doesn’t walk anywhere. He takes a car, doesn’t drive and when that fails, he flies. It’s odd, to walk down the street without being recognized.  But as Darcy had so helpfully pointed out - no one’s going to look at him and think yes, that’s Tony Stark, billionaire genius in backwater Cheese Country.  At most, they’ll think wow, that ruggedly good looking and unknown wedding guest sure does look a lot like Tony Stark. Gee howdy.

 

 Darcy knows the path by heart, two lefts after the stop sign, and right across one small bridge covering a muddy, drought-stricken river.  She carries her heels in her hand, the gold tips catching in the morning light, no fear of stepping on broken glass or heroine needles or homeless people here in suburbia’s lesser known, inbred cousin of a little town whose population barely spans a four-digit number [2] .  

 

Autumn’s only just began to make itself known on the wind, but the leaves on the trees are all bursting orange and red and yellow.  It’s pretty in a way so many small towns are, strapped by an inland struggle to sustain on tourism and quirk. Byron, Wisconsin seems to be riding the coattails of both cheese and, inexplicably, pears. Sometimes together, but Tony’s made the executive decision to avoid the combo. 

 

Darcy’s dress flutters in the breeze, the dusky shade complementary to the color on her cheeks.  It’s knee length, with sheer layers, a demure front, but a low and open back. She looks like a fairy princess, soft brown curls caught up in a low twist, held in place with twenty-eight pearl head pins.  Tony had watched her do it herself, with delicate fingers.  She looks like she doesn’t have a pint of straight vodka tucked in her lacy little garter. 

 

She’d put the dress on with a curious, look. “What?” Tony had asked, innocently adjusting his tie. It matches her dress, a blushy pink mauve. “We’re going to  _ church _ , Darcy.” 

 

“Yeah.” she’d spun a little, letting the skirts flutter and twirl high enough to flash a little thigh. “But I was expecting something a little---less.” 

 

“Less what?” Tony had waited until she’d fallen still to hold up the earrings - peridot and diamonds set in soft gold, with a matching tennis bracelet.The effect is something like the last days of summer, with her pretty dress and fairy curls.  It suits her every bit as much as the other dress he packed, for later. She’d never believe him if he told her, though.

 

She’d grinned up at him, and pressed a berry-colored kiss into his cheek. “No, just less.” 

 

The thing is, Tony had considered it.  It’s what she was angling for, something risque and scandalous. Something expected, no doubt.  Tony thinks she forgets she’s more than just  _ sexy _ .  She’s more than just tits and a good time. She plays the part of a simpering little airhead when it suits her, and people believe it very easily.  Tony thinks maybe, sometimes Darcy believes it too.  So he’d picked something  _ pretty _ , instead.  Something she’d never buy herself, but clearly enjoys, if her second little princess spin was to be believed.  He’d watched her watch herself in the full-length mirror, the curious little smile on her face worth the thirteen hundred he’d spent on the dress. 

 

That’s not to say he didn’t pack something  _ less _ .  Navy blue and...small.  Bodycon, bandage, whatever - it would mold to her body, all the curves Tony’s put his mouth on.  Short enough to cause a scandal, with cap sleeves and a plunging neckline, it’s exactly the dress Darcy expects. She’ll like it too, love it probably, wear it like a second skin (it’s certainly tight enough).  “That’s for later.” 

 

Inside the church, with its pretty steeple and bell, people have already begun to fill the pews.  The sign outside declared it the Byron Church Of Many, rotating Sundays and Wednesdays claimed by Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Baptists [3] . The fourth Sunday is a collective potluck held in the basement.  Darcy explains this absolute absurdity with a wide, laughing smile. 

 

They take their seats in a pew third from the back, wedged between a man who smells inexplicably of corn, though he’s dressed in a decent suit, and a woman who might have been older than Steve. Her pale, crepey skin has more wrinkles than one of Doc Doom’s plans for world domination giving her the inexplicable look of a wrinkled lampshade.Tony wonders if she can even see, or if she’s half blind like a Shar Pei puppy. 

 

She squints at Darcy, mouth pursing in a way that makes her coral orange lipstick bleed into the cracks around her mouth. Tony is not fond of old people. They smell like death and Bengay.  “Do I know you, darling?” 

 

“Nanna,” Darcy says, with more patience in her voice than Tony has ever heard, collectively. “It’s Darcy.” 

 

“Lou’s girl!” Nanna says, brightly, spittle flying from her loose dentures. “Why it’s been some time, dear.” 

 

“A few months,” Darcy says kindly, mouth stretched into a genuine smile.  “I was here to take Uncle Lou home with me, remember?” 

 

“No,” Nanna grins and Tony thinks perhaps she isn’t altogether  _ present _ .  Tony doesn’t spend a great deal of time amongst the elderly. It makes him feel old in the opposite way that Darcy makes him feel old. “But then, that’s not surprising. How is Lou?” 

 

“Living it up with some old soldiers in a care home in New York,” Darcy explains. “Talking about Nam, and cat calling the nurses.” 

 

“Best keep his hands to himself,” Nanna tells her, sternly. “Anna would have his hide.” 

 

“I’m sure she would.” From what Darcy’s told Tony, Anna hadn’t been around when Lou had taken her in. She’d died a few years prior, and Lou had never remarried, staying faithful to the specter of his lady.  Tony would hazard a guess that this Nanna is a relation to Anna and not Lou, who seemed to be as alone in the world as his little foundling daughter.  It’s sweet, though, Tony thinks, that his long-dead wife's’ family still found a little love for her. They didn’t have to and--- Tony doesn’t run in many circles where people do things they don’t have to.  Perhaps just the one. 

 

Nanna leans around Darcy to peer at Tony with a narrowed, gimlet gaze. “Who's your young man, Darcy dear? Strapping fellow, innit he? Did you find him in the City?” 

 

Tony barely suppresses the little snort at  _ young _ . He’s not young, not really, but perhaps when you’re three hundred and sixty-eight, forty-something  _ does  _ seem young.  Darcy laughs. “This Tony Stark. Tony, this is Nonna Stephens. Lou’s wife's mother,” Darcy confirms Tony’s assumption. “I met him at work.” 

 

“Pleasure,” Tony says, taking her wizened hand. He eyes Darcy at being introduced so boldly. Darcy just grins. 

 

She doesn’t so much as blink his way. “Don’t suppose Mandy’s pregnant, do you?” Nana asks, clearly done with investigating Tony. She turns her squint eye back on Darcy. “Would love a baby about.” 

 

Darcy’s gaze slides to the front of the church, where no groom lingers on the steps. “Doubtful. This seems kind of highbrow for a shotgun wedding.” She grins at Tony a little, at the idea of considering this high-end. Tony knows he’s being teased. “Also, I’m pretty sure the woman she’s marrying would take some offense.” 

 

Nana snaps her fingers. “Right, yeah. Forgot this one was a lovely little dyke. Sweet things, the pair of them. Well if not for babies, you don’t suppose they’ll want a cat do you? Amelia’s just had a litter---” 

 

“Nona, I sent you money to get her fixed,” Darcy gripes. He’s heard her out and out  _ rant  _ on feline sterilization. It’s given with the same intensity she uses to make foreign dignitaries cry.  “You can’t just shove kittens at all your--” 

 

“There’s nothing to fix, with Amelia!” Nona protests. “How is my sweet Lucy?” 

 

“ _ Lucifer _ ,” Darcy corrects, with a lofty tone, “is doing quite well. Nona - don’t give Mandy and Daniel a kitten without asking. There isn’t--- there’s not a kitten in a box somewhere, is there?” She looks fully ready to abandon the church in favor of rescuing a feline, and Tony’s never been more amused by her love of cats. “Jesus Christ--” 

 

“Now now, dear,” Nona pats Darcy’s knee. “The new gets aren’t quite old enough to be weaned. And I don’t give them to all my grandchildren. Just the ones who can’t have babies, or  _ won’t _ .” She shifts her gaze back to Tony. “Don’t suppose you have any of your own already? I should like some children in the family again! Darcy’s barren as a church on Monday, the little sinner.” 

 

Tony opens his mouth because ---he didn’t know Darcy couldn’t have kids. “I--- No. I’m not...fond of...being handed things. I have robots?” Handing Tony a baby is a great way to watch a baby be dropped. “I have money.” 

 

Nona doesn’t so much as blink at that, either. Tony’s starting to wonder if maybe she is blinking, and he just can’t tell for all the flappy skin folds.  Wrinkles freak him out. “Are you fond of cats?” 

 

“No,” Darcy says shortly, pushing into the spot just over left eyebrow like she does anytime she’s preparing to fake a migraine. Tony slides his hand up her thigh as surreptitiously as he can, fingers catching on the smooth steel of her flask.  He drank himself through a fair few family events as a teenager. He gets it. He pulls it loose and slips it into her hand.  Darcy isn’t shy about knocking it back, going so far as to offer it to the nice looking couple on the left of Tony. To his amusement, they look almost interested, but then organ music belches through the high ceilings of the church, abruptly cutting off anymore conversation. 

 

He slips his hand into Darcy’s just as she slips the flask back beneath her dress. He and leans down low enough to kiss behind her ear. “I like her.” 

 

She turns into it, even as the rest of the church turns to catch sight of the bride. “Nona’s probably the best behaved of my family,” she tells him, pressing a vodka-scented kiss to his beard. “Besides me, of course.” 

 

Tony kisses her mouth before she can turn away. “No more cats.” 

 

“Bitch,” she mutters mouth curling into a little smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1]Single Pair of Tom Ford Basic Ribbed Socks - $74. I shit you not. 
> 
> [2] Byron, Wisconsin has a population of 1500, according to the 2000 Census report. I picked it because it kind of reminded me of my native land, Trashtown, Michigan. 
> 
> [3]Back when I went years ago, our Episcopal Church adopted a failing Lutheran congregation when they lost their church due to bankruptcy. The two pastors rotated Sundays


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these things actually happened to me. Some of them are things I would have done if I had more money than a colombian coke lord.

The reception isn’t for another few hours, brides gone to do whatever brides do in the interim. “Probably wedding pictures and fucking,” Darcy reasons. Tony has one arm looped around her waist, and the other holding her shoes. “Maybe at the same time, I went to school with their photographer and he totally use to shoot porn in Chicago. He paid his models  _ very  _ competitively.” 

 

“Anything I might have seen you in?” Tony teases though he wonders if there's merit. He wonders if it’s sketchy that he’d like to see it - little eighteen-year-old Darcy, confident on camera. Probably. 

 

“Nah, SHIELD trashed it,” She winks at him, and Tony’s not sure if she’s joking or not. “Though I suppose we’ve probably made a few of our own, eh? Think we can get Jarvis to pull the feed from that time with the---” 

 

Tony knows instinctively which time she’s referring too and feels himself flush hot across the back of his neck. “Uh,” he says, ineloquently. Truth be told, he’s already edited the cam feed into a very  _ nice  _ little video. “I might...I mean I could email you the cam feed. Jarvis can pull it up.” 

She doesn’t buy his nonchalance at all. Darcy does a little double take up at him, mouth spread into a smile. “You jerk off to us fucking? That’s adorable.  _ When _ ?” 

 

When he’s bored. When she’s out of town for business. During business meetings on his phone. When she’s in the shower taking fucking  _ forever, no person that small should take that long what the hell was she doing in there---- _ . You know. Here and there. “You were in Taiwan forever,” he says, a little evasively. “I’m a lonely old man, Darcy. With a hot little girlfriend. I refuse to feel weird about this.” 

 

“All the porn in the world and you’re gonna beat it to me.” She shakes her head. “You  _ schmuck _ .” 

 

“Well, I know what it’s like to stick my dick in you,” Tony argues, digging his fingers into her side to make her squirm as they turn the corner back onto the main strip of town. “So it’s visual plus sense-memory.  I can’t get that with just any porn. Besides, I like the way you say my name when you come.” Tony feels an inexplicable little shiver run through him at the  _ thought _ . 

 

“No, no. You can’t come back from this. You’re  _ adorable _ .” She slides her hand up the back of his jacket, to hook her thumb into his belt. It’s going to wrinkle his suit, but he doesn’t exactly care when she’s pressing her thumb right into the stupid dimple above his right ass cheek, a place she has an inexplicable affection for. “You wanna go back to the hotel and fuck and get dressed for the reception?” 

 

“The reception isn’t until six.” It’s only a little past one, now. “You think we’re gonna fuck for five hours?” They have before, but never with anything planned for after except drunk oblivion or naps. 

“We could  _ try _ .” She pulls away from him, walking backward up the sidewalk, mouth spread into a wide grin.  The wind ruffles her dress and the little loose curls framing her face and Tony knows on an intellectual level that Darcy isn’t the most conventionally beautiful woman he’s ever seen, but also she very much  _ is _ .  She’s not the tallest or the thinnest or the fairest or but she has to be the  _ most real _ . The Purest. There is nothing fake, or artificial or cultivated in Darcy; she just is what she is.  “Oooh, or we could get lunch.” She tilts her head toward the diner where they’d gotten coffee last time he found her in this map-speck society of greasy hilljack people, as she called them. Tony’s not offended that french fries hold the same place in life as getting him naked. It’s a compliment, from his hipster baby. “Food then fucking! Then pain and suffering. I’d like to go happy and fed.” 

 

“We fitting that in before the reception?” 

 

“No, that is the reception.” 

 

It’s like every retro throwback diner he’s ever been in except, perhaps, a  _ little  _ more authentic with its dull chrome and chipped checkered tile. They take the same skinny two-seater booth, three windows left of the door.  The vermillion vinyl creaks as Tony folds himself into the bench.  Darcy takes her place on the other side, wasting no time to throw both her feet into his lap. The gold toed tips peek over the edge and Tony grabs them both before she can start squirming.  Neither picks up a menu: Tony’s fairly certain everything here is ten bucks and under which is a baffling concept. Rarely does even  _ cheap  _ food in New York sink into single digit dollars.  Or if it does, Tony can’t eat it. On principle. 

 

There are little plastic jukeboxes on the tables and  Darcy fiddles with the knob.  He stops her when something crackles through the speakers, familiar if not fuzzy. Darcy looks at him, fingers still on the radio knob. “What?”

 

_ Cold hard bitch  _

_ Just a kiss on the lips  _

_ And I was on my knees _

_ I’m waiting, give me---- _

 

“This--- you were playing this over the com the day I met you.” He remembers it with perfect clarity right down to the shock and shuddery feeling that had stolen his breath away when she’d rolled upside down on his couch.  “You were upside down on my couch.  You had on those---those fucking awful shoes. They didn’t match. And some ratty jeans---” 

 

“Hipster pants,” Darcy interrupts, smiling a little. She leaves the song, even though it’s white noise more than anything else. “You called me Hipster Pants.” 

 

_ Terribly sorry to slam your jam, Hipster Pants. _ That’s the first thing Tony ever said to her. “And you called me Daddy Warbucks.” 

 

“ _ Attractive _ Daddy Warbucks. I’m not into bald guys.” 

 

“I didn’t like you,” Tony remembers, fondly. She’d caused him a significant amount of internal distress and boners, honestly, until Pepper pointed out their similarities, and then it was just mostly boners. Mostly.  “You didn’t seem to like me much either. You always---snubbed me. It drove me nuts.”

 

“I didn’t think you’d know how to slum it with the plebs.” She shrugs, fiddling with the shiny chrome napkin dispenser. “And I was right, you don’t. But it’s cute watching you try.  Every time we eat somewhere with paper napkins---” 

 

“They’re a tragedy, Darcy. Disposable anything is just---We’re an 80% paperless corporation for a reason.” He catches her smothering her laughter behind her hand. “Yeah yeah. Laugh it up, chuckles.  Besides---I didn’t like you either. You were mean and bossy. And scary. And it kept turning me on.” He stops and thinks about it for a moment. “Actually, none of that’s changed. Still turns me on, except now I know why.” 

 

She has the prettiest smile. Shamelessly wide, and uncaring of the gap in her teeth.  “Oh yeah? Why?” 

 

“Because----”  _ I love you. _ “I’m very vain. And you’re basically me but prettier.” 

 

“You’re pretty too,” Darcy assures him, with saccharine sweetness. “I don’t think we’re that much alike. No matter what Pepper says.” 

 

_ What does Pepper say _ , Tony wants to know. “How do you figure? Darcy, we’re so much alike, it makes our enthusiastic fucking seem a little incestuous.” An errant thought flitters through Tony’s head, disturbing and unwelcome. “Um.” 

 

“You’re not my dad,” Darcy assures him, translating that two-letter little noise into a fully formed thought and question. “Phil ran my DNA after recruitment.  My sperm donor is a fifty-four-year-old convicted felon living in Texas.  Drugs and prostitution, mostly.  He has cirrhosis and Hep C.  So, if I needed, like... an organ or something, we couldn’t call him anyway.” She pats his hand on the table. “Cute of you to think about that several  months after sticking your dick in me, though.” 

Tony would buy her a kidney on the black market if necessary, but it isn’t. He ran the blood, tissue and crossmatch testing months ago on a whim (he's done it for Bruce, and Rhodie, and Pepper.... People who matter).  Tony could totally give her a kidney,  they’re that much alike. His are a little old and have been punched a fair few times, but they do their job.  “You ever wanna meet him anyway?” 

 

“I mean - I don’t even think he knows I exist? My mom didn’t seem to know who he was. Like, I’m pretty sure my mom was a prostitute.  I’m probably a product of that.” She seems unphased by the depressive reality of that, but Tony supposes she’s had long enough to cope with it. “So no. Not really. Uncle Lou was enough family for me.” 

 

“We’re a family.” He means them, the two of them, but that’s probably--- Tony knows he’s farther ahead in the race than her. He’s fallen further, deeper, had more time to know how much he loves her. “The Avengers, I mean. We’re a family. You’re part of that. Thor calls you his sister. And me his brother. Which makes you and me related, but I think incest is normal with Gods and shit.” 

 

“Well considering how many of you I’ve slept with, I think incest is normal with the Avengers too.” She snorts and scrubs both hands down her face. “Fuck. Shit. Thank you for being here with me. I mean it. Anyone else---I don’t think I could bare it. You’re just---” She sighs as she looks at him. “You’re all I need.” 

 

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.” 

 

“Yeah well, maybe we’re more alike than I thought.”  She reaches out and takes his hand - and he thinks it might be a first. For her to reach out to him.  She tangles their fingers and Tony squeezes his palm around hers.  She isn’t wrong, he can’t slum it with the plebs or however she puts it. He hates everything about this little mud hole of a county, everything but her. But he has a sense that Darcy’s always been too big for Byron, Wisconsin. 

 

The waitress comes a moment later, silverware and plastic water cups scattered on a tray she’s got balanced on her round, little belly. A pretty, little diamond glints from a ring hanging loose on her finger and Tony can smell shotgun wedding over diner-grease and the general stink of the midwest (cows, corn, and in Wisconsin, cheese).  

 

“Welcome to Oasis, I’ll be your waitress. My names Katie. Did you folks need a moment?” She looks right at him, as she asks, a pleasant smile stretched across her pink mouth. She’s got no idea who he is. 

 

Tony huffs a little, bemused. “I think we’re ready. Babe?”

 

He fully understands Darcy’s love of greasy diner food, but that doesn’t quite explain the look of pure fucking  _ glee _ on her face as she looks up at the waitress, like all the haunakuhs have come early. “You first,” she tells him, pulling her feet from where he’s got them trapped between his thighs, so she can turn to face the waitress proper.  Tony orders what he got last time. 

 

She waits patiently for the waitress to put down his order, before reciting her own. “I’ll have the house burger, medium, American cheese, lettuce, and tomato. No mustard or onion, please.” 

 

Katie scribbles it all down on her pad, pretty gaze flickering back up to Darcy, pleasant smile still in place. “Did you want fries with that?” 

 

“God  _ damn _ ,” Darcy drawls, leaning back in her seat. She slides her tongue across her teeth in a way he’s only ever seen her do right before she’s injured or emasculated someone. She turns in the booth and crosses her legs at the knees.  Tony leans slightly to the right, just enough to see she’s intentionally flashing the red bottoms - Pepper does it when she wants people to know she has enough money to buy their house and set it on fire. Darcy’s gone into full Head Bitch In Charge Mode. Tony is brutally curious about why a waitress would elicit such a reaction. He hadn’t checked her out much, and Darcy wouldn't care if he did. “That sounded every bit as good as I thought it would. Can you say it again? Hold on, let me get my phone out, I want to record it.” 

The waitress looks at Darcy over her notepad. “I’m sorry, I don’t under---- _ Darcy _ ?” Darcy’s name comes out on a strangled, broken squeak. 

 

“Hello Katie,” Darcy all but sings, grinning blindingly at the woman.  She’s practically glowing with her own vindictive pettiness and the glee is just a little bit infectious. Tony grins, watching both women. He’s got no clue what’s going on, but Darcy’s always good for a show. 

 

Katie blinks. “You look---different. Good! Did you---” She looks down at Darcy’s chest.  Darcy’s tits are absolutely real; Tony’s spent a lot of time with his face plants between them, he knows.  Maybe they’re just hard not to look; he sort of understands that. “You look good.” 

 

“Yes. I do. And yes, I would like fries with that. Funny you should ask. You were always saying that was gonna be  _ my _ job.”  

 

Ooooh, so it’s like that, Tony thinks. 

 

Katie, the waitress, has gone wide-eyed. “I---I’ll get your order in.” 

 

“On second thought, I’m not sure I want to eat anything within range of you spitting in it, thanks.” She grabs Tony’s wallet off the table and it shouldn’t give him a little thrill to watch her riffle through the bills inside, but it does. Tony feels his dick twitch when she grabs a fifty and tosses it on the empty table. “For your time.” 

 

“I would  _ never _ \---Darcy. I’m sorry about your uncle,” Katie says in a rush, shifting on her feet. Tony watches her hand come to rest at the top of her belly, the nervous gesture pregnant women everywhere grow. “Aunt Pam says---you brought him to New York with you? We heard you were...doing really well for yourself.” 

 

“Really well.” Darcy agrees, with the same smile she gave Fury for calling her an assistant. “I heard you got married. And pregnant. But not in that order. Congratulations times two. I’d have come to the wedding but I wasn’t invited.” 

 

Tony chokes a little and hides his smile behind a terrible paper napkin he doesn’t need. “I’m sorry, are we staying or....” 

 

“I suppose we can.  I’m sure Katie won’t spit in our food. It would be terrible if I...bought the diner and fired her.” She grins sunnily up at Katie. “Speaking of, your husband still working for Red at  _ my  _ shop?” 

 

Tony watches Katie wilt and almost feels bad.  Kind of. Darcy’s not necessarily vindictive without a cause, and Tony might not have gone to high school but the drama is real here.  “Yeah...two years now. We just bought a house.” 

 

“Congratulations, Katie. You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself too. We’ll stay.” She picks up the fifty dollar bill - which would cover their bill twice, plus a nice tip - and slides it into Katie’s apron pocket. “For the baby.” 

 

Katie leaves, wordlessly, but Tony waits until she’s deep in the kitchen before turning to Darcy with a very arched look. “Wow. Wouldn’t have pegged you as a catty bitch.” 

 

“Meow.” Darcy rolls her eyes. “Please, Petty is my middle name and we both know it. That, Tony Stark, was the bonafide Prom Queen of my class. And a veritable bitch who spent several years trying to ruin my life.”

 

Katie looks like the Prom Queen type. Blonde hair, blue eyes, that same girl-next-door look about her. She was probably a cheerleader. Probably lost her virginity in the back seat of a Pontiac Sunfire. A lovely little cliche. Tony’s read about these things. “Ah, the social hierarchy of the American Teen. Gross. I graduated in my freshman year so, I didn’t really have to deal with that. I mean, then I was fifteen in college which presented its own problems, but I had more money than a Colombian coke lord, so that didn’t really matter.” 

 

“Yeah. I was raised in an _ actual junkyard _ . A junkyard, I might add, that was a steep upgrade from my previous living situations. As you can imagine, I was prime pickings for the upper middle class of this here small town suburbia.” She runs her finger over the rim of the plastic water glass. “That was probably kind of mean, but... well. So was she. And now I pretty much own the shop her baby-daddy works for. So.” 

 

“You gonna fire him?” 

 

“No. He was a dick to me too. But no. I could. But...I mean, I might be a salty bitch but I don’t want to make little babies homeless and shit. Plus, firing him would mean it still bothers me.” 

 

Tony snorts and gives her a look. “It clearly still bothers you.” 

 

She shoots him a mean, thin-lipped smile. “Yeah, hi. Hello. I’m human. And petty. And it wasn't that long ago. Four years. Four years ago, I was in high school with those ass holes.” 

 

He pulls a face; sour lemons. “Please, continue reminding me what an absolute creep I am.” 

 

“The creepiest,” she tells him sweetly. “My point is that four years ago, I was in high school and she was calling me junkyard trash.” 

 

“And look at you now.”  He grabs her hand and pulls it across the table so he can kiss her knuckles and make her squirm. “Kicking ass and taking names. And making a lot of money. Have you  _ seen  _ what Pepper’s paying you? It’s more than I paid Pepper. Why was she mean to you anyway? You make it sound personal.”

 

Darcy looks out the window. “Normal high school shit. I’m going to leave the house and shop to Red,” Darcy tells him. “He can do what he wants with it. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it. My life isn’t here anymore.  My home’s with---the Tower.” 

 

Tony grins. “Were you gonna say  _ me _ ?” 

 

“Shut up,” Darcy mutters. “Whatever. I’m only in it for your shower head. I’ve named it Jarvis; no one’s ever made me come so hard. Not even Captain America and he made me see  _ stars _ .”  

 

“What about Iron Man?” 

 

She leers at him and slides her shoe up his leg until it’s resting between his thighs again. Tony grabs it before she can get him past half-mast.  Decorum isn’t her style; Tony will have to be the bigger person. “Eh.  He does okay.” She pauses, drumming her fingers on the table quickly. “Hey, so like. What does it say about me that I want to buy the diner just so I can be her boss and lord it over her?” 

 

Tony’s laugh is loud enough to border on rude in the small space of the diner. “It means you’re finally Money, honey. Welcome to the good life.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this part of the series is actually kind of fucking long. I wrote twenty thousand words.

Katie doesn’t bring their food. Another waitress does, old enough to be Darcy’s mom. She gives Tony a severely disproving look as she sets their plates down. “Looking good, Lewis,” she hums. “You going to the reception later? I couldn’t make the wedding.” 

 

“I’ll be there,” Darcy assures her, with an honest smile. “Tony this is Sheila. She used to watch me for Lou, sometimes. She’s practically my aunt.”

 

Tony knows there’s something weightier about the family we choose over the family given to us. So he knows, inherently, that this woman is or was important to Darcy. “Nice to meet you, I’m Tony St---” 

 

“Hey, so you probably need to get back to work, didn’t mean to keep you.” Darcy cuts him off. Which---rude. But, she’s let him come and he’s willing to pick his battles. “We’ll catch you at the reception, yeah?” 

 

“Todd’s gonna be there. And Emily. And Father John.” 

 

“I don’t have a problem with some of those people.”

 

The Aunt gives her an arched, maternal sort of look.  “Katie’s gonna be there. You made her cry.”  

 

“Guilt and hormones made her cry.” Darcy’s smile is sweet and unsorry. “And I  _ absolutely  _ have a problem with Katie. But I don’t have shit with Todd. Emily hates me, but it’s kind of...adorable? It’s fine.” She pauses, mouth pursed. “And I let Father John baptize me before I left for college. The power of Christ compels me, Sheila. We’re good now.”

 

Sheila doesn’t buy it, mouth spreading into a thin, reprimanding grimace. “Aren’t you Jewish?” 

 

“Organized Religion is a more of a guideline than a set of rules.” Darcy shrugs. 

 

“Isn’t that...I think that’s Pirates.” 

 

She kicks him under the table. “Shut up Tony.”  

 

“Todd’s looking real good, Darcy. He went to NMU,” she adds, like that matters. “Just moved back.” 

 

“Uh yeah. That’s not gonna happen. Do you see this? All this hotness? This is my boyfriend,” Darcy points to Tony, and he’s fairly certain she’s never said those words together in reference to him.  _ This is my boyfriend. _ She sounds like him. He grins. “He’s hot, right? And  _ smart _ .  I’m not taking Todd back.” 

 

_ Oh _ . Tony sits up. Ex boyfriend drama. Adorable. Quaint. It’s----It’s just so fucking quaint. Darcy Lewis once had a high school boyfriend. Tony can barely stand it, it’s too much. He grins. 

 

“And old enough to be your dad,” Sheila adds, and the grin melts right off his face because  _ rude _ .  True, but rude. “Didn’t you already learn your lesson about older men in positions of power? I’m pretty sure we’re just getting over that scandal.” 

 

“How  _ is _ Mr. Marks?” Darcy asks, just as Tony interrupts, “I’ll have you know, she’s actually  _ my  _ boss.” 

 

Sheila’s eyes narrow. She looks---protective. Tony’s never got a shovel talk before. Is this what picking up your prom date feels like? “Yeah, and what do you do?” 

 

“I’m an engineer.” Tony grins sunnily up at her. “For Stark Industries.” 

 

She dismisses that without so much as a blink. “I thought you were a PA.” 

 

“I am. I was.” Darcy’s shoulders hunch a little, and suddenly it’s not funny anymore. “I---was just promoted. But I was a P.A. Just. For someone kind of high up in the company is all. It’s not a big deal.” 

“May Pepper never hear you say that.” Tony’s had enough. “CEO Pepper Potts. Have you heard of her? She runs Stark Industries. Darcy worked as her personal assistant for a year, and Ms.Potts just submitted her name for President of the company.” 

 

Sheila reels a little, leaning back with her tray still propped on her hip. “Is that---is that true? Honey, I knew you were making money---” She shakes her head. “I thought you dropped out of college.” 

 

“I did---” 

 

“She’s was just accepted into Harvard,” Tony interjects, moving his shin just in time to avoid Darcy’s kick. “And Colombia, actually.” 

 

“I didn’t even apply to Colombia!” 

 

“I did it for you, I wanted you to have options----” 

 

“Tony, I swear to God---” 

 

_ “Tony Stark?”  _

 

Ah yes. There it is. That sweet, singular awe. Tony’s missed it. “Hi,” he says, grinning sunnily up at her. “Tony Stark. Nice to meet you.” 

 

“Oh my God,” Sheila says faintly, looking at Darcy with big, accusatory eyes. “Honey, what did you do---” 

 

“Right, the only way I can get anywhere in life is fucking my way up.” Darcy snaps her fingers and points and the gesture is hurt with her usual sarcasm and taciturn nature.

 

Tony frowns. “Pepper isn’t into women,” he notes. “So that can’t be true.” 

 

She sighs the big one that deflates her whole entire body. “Tony, please---” 

 

“No, no. This is--- I know you warned me, sugar but this just won’t stand.” Tony turns to Sheila, ignoring anything else Darcy has to say.  She told him her family didn’t hold any high expectations for her, but this is---presumptuous, at worst and fucking awful at best. “Quick recap, Aunt Sheila, because you seem to be operating on some wildly inaccurate assumptions. Darcy went to college.” He looks at her and waits. 

 

“In New Mexico,” Aunt Sheila confirms, slowly. “And then she dropped out.” 

 

“No,” Tony waves a hand at her. “She took an internship with one of the most formidable names in Astrophysics and Wormhole theory. Then, she dropped out.” He pauses, waits for Sheila to speak, and cuts her off on principle. “Because she was recruited by a government agency looking for particularly strong-willed and intelligent people for a Special Ops force.” 

 

Aunt Sheila tucks the tray up under her arm and frowns. “That seems kind of far-fetched. Darcy did always like her stories.” Tony thinks that’s the nicest way anyone accused someone of being a liar, he’s ever heard.

 

“Hi,” Tony says again, holding out his hand. “I’m Iron Man. I work with Superheros. Am, in fact, a superhero myself. There is no such thing as far-fetched.  I work in collaboration with this specific Special Ops force.  They work with the Avengers. You’ve heard of the Avengers, right? Of course, you have. If you’ve heard of me, you’ve heard of the Avengers.” 

 

“Okay,” Sheila concedes, gaze shifting to Darcy for a moment. 

 

“You’ve heard of the Avengers. You’ve heard of me. And I’m gonna hazard a guess you’ve heard about my previous lady love, Pepper Potts. Who is now in control of my entire company.” 

 

“The pretty redhead,” Sheila confirms. “Messy breakup?” 

 

The tabloid coverage of the literal explosion was bigger than the proverbial one, Tony will give her that. “You might say that. Anyways,” he stresses. “Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries. Stark Industries, who does business with one certain government Special Ops force? Yeah. Pepper hired Darcy directly from that program as her personal assistant with every intention of promoting her to President of SI. A promotion, I might add, that has just been slated. One that I had nothing to do with because I don’t run the company. Darcy doesn’t work for me. I work for  _ her _ .” 

 

“Fine,” Sheila says, with the same tone Darcy uses when she wants Tony to find the point, and arrive. “Fine. But why would a --- a whatever company need a Special Ops person for a secretary.” It’s said the silent insinuation that she’s not sure Darcy’s a good fit for either position.

 

“We prefer Personal Assistant,” Tony corrects, firmly. “And we like strong, fierce women in positions of power. I’ve found they get more done in far less time. Darcy currently controls the entirety of Stark Home Base. She runs the New York Tower, top to bottom. As to her history in Special Ops - why wouldn’t we want someone like that running the company? I have two Special Ops on the Avengers. Frankly, Darcy’s kind of slumming it at Stark. I once saw her break a man's hand with her thighs. I admire that kind of skill set in a president.” 

 

At that, Sheila doesn’t look surprised. In fact, she looks proud. “Darcy was always a ball buster. Now I can’t credit her being a--a---” 

 

“Agent,” Tony supplies. “Agent Lewis, Superhero Wrangler.” 

 

“I'm not an Agent anymore. President Lewis,” Darcy stabs a french fry with a knife that was not provided by the diner, and Tony admires her penchant for theatrics. “But---whatever.” 

 

“Post Agent President?” Tony offers, before turning to Aunt Waitress.  he wonders if this is how Darcy feels when she's telling people Tony's better than all of them. He hopes so; it's a nice feeling. “Here’s the thing, Sheila. You don’t have to believe it for it to be true. While she has no interest in defending whatever assumption you were going to make, I certainly do. No matter what you believe about how she got where she is - the fact is... Darcy currently makes more annually than 90% of women in similar positions and 60% of men in similar positions,  _ none  _ of which comes from my pocket.  She currently runs the  _ entire  _ Stark New York Base, by herself. That kind of money? That job?  You don’t fuck yourself into that position, and you sure as hell don’t fuck yourself into  _ keeping  _ it, so I’ll ask that you not assume she got anywhere on her back; she takes the penthouse elevator like the rest of us millionaires.” 

 

“You’re not a millionaire,” Darcy argues, looking a little nonplussed by his vehement protest. She’s pointing at him with a french fry as if to make her point. “Wait, no, I’m  _ not  _ a millionaire.” 

 

“Give it like two years.” Less if she’d just fucking use Tony’s money for stuff and not her own. “You will be. Anything to add?” 

 

Darcy squints at him for a long moment, before turning to her aunt. “So yeah, I dropped out of college, but things are going okay It's kind of like trade-school. You know, it's not the traditional way but we don't look down on blue collar workers

"What? No. Darcy---you're going to Harvard." 

"Community College Harvard." 

"That's not a thing, stop telling people that. You're going to real Harvard." 

Sheila looks abashed, cutting into their banter. “I---Sorry---I----”

“It’s fine. Given my history, it’s an easy assumption to make.” Darcy waves a hand at her, and there’s a story there, Tony’s sure of it. “I’ll see you later.” 

 

“Darcy, I’m sorry,” Sheila says, quiet and honest. “I shouldn’t have - he’s just older, and that shit with---” 

 

“Yeah,” Darcy nods and stares down at her burger. “Yes. I get it. It probably all does sound pretty far-fetched, and you probably don’t believe it. But whatever. It’s fine.” 

 

“It’s not,” Tony insists, annoyed by the both of them.  Darcy's disinclination to accept the accolades she deserves is annoying. They're supposed to be alike. Tony doesn't have time for humility.  “You know what? Pepper’s doing  _ Forbes  _ next week to promote Stark International. You’re crashing her cover shoot.” 

 

“Um, no,” Darcy shakes her head. “Decidedly not.” 

 

“Darcy,” Tony says firmly, picking up his fork. “There wouldn’t be a Stark International if it wasn’t for you. Also, you promised.” 

 

“What, no I didn’t!” 

 

“You said I could start showing you off.” He cuts into his roast Beef Manhattan, which looks nothing like the one you’d find in actual Manhattan but that’s okay. It’s got the essentials. And cheese, which is a weird addition but Tony will allow it. “And you can start with a Forbes spread on how amazing you are when you’re not slumming it with me and my peasant company and superhero friends.”  He’s maybe adding a little extra flourish for the Aunt’s benefit, but Darcy is amazing.  Darcy could be dating Captain Fucking America (Steve has a lil crush, Tony’s not blind, it's just kind of cute so he allows it), but she’s mucking around with him instead. “Come on. It’s right up your alley. Pepper Potts, and Darcy Lewis; kicking ass and taking names in a male-dominated field.” 

 

That seals it for her, Tony can tell.  Darcy stabs her burger. “I thought you just wanted people to see you with your hand up my dress.” 

 

“That too,” Tony assures her. He looks up, at the Aunt who's still standing flabbergasted at their tableside. “I’m sorry Sheila, did you need something?” 

 

“No,” Sheila says, mouth curling into a little smile. “No, I think I’m good. Darcy- you really do seem to be doing well for yourself.”

 

“Can I ask a favor,” Darcy asks, side-eying Tony though her question is for the woman. “Can you not make a big deal about Tony?” 

 

“Hey! Stop hiding me!” Tony pouts, even though he knows that’s not what she’s about. “We talked about this. I won’t be your dirty secret.” He sort of gets it now, with Sheila’s instant and vehement assumptions. He gets why Darcy isn’t exactly thrilled to have him here. 

 

“They’re going to find out, baby.” She grins and Tony feels like he’s passed some kind of test. It’s not exactly a shovel talk, but Sheila’s not giving him the stink eye anymore. “Especially when I tell them to buy this---what was it?  _ Forbes _ ? Is that a magazine?” 

 

Tony stares at his sandwich a helpless smile threatening his own mouth. Hilljacks, Darcy called them. This is her family, this adorable collective of hilljack cheese people.  They’re... great, if not the greatest. They’re actually sort of awful, but Tony thinks---that’s normal.  They are Darcy’s people.  It makes him love Darcy a little harder, makes him understand her wild ways a little more. “Yes. Yes, it is.” 

 

“I know they’re gonna find out. I mean - it seems improbable that all of the nine people who live in this gutter hole won’t recognize him. I just mean--- be  _ chill _ .” 

 

Sheila raises an eyebrow and Tony can almost imagine a little-Darcy teaching herself to imitate that very expression. “The most chillest of all your Aunts. She has a lot," she adds, for Tony's benefit. "You two have fun. Darcy---try to stay out of trouble.” 

 

“That’s rude and presumptuous and I make zero promises.” She grins sunnily. “I can post my own bail now.”  She turns to Tony when Sheila leaves. “Well. That went better than I expected. Cute of you to defend me. You know she doesn’t believe a single thing you said. No one’s who knows me is going to be like ‘Oh yeah, Darcy’s some sort of super bad ass.” 

 

“Then, they don’t know you, do they?” Tony looks at Darcy across the table. “I’m trying to imagine Clint here, right now. Five o’clock shadow, in need of a haircut, rented tux. Hillbilly chic is his aesthetic. Oh my God, can you get a tux in sleeveless?” 

 

Darcy drags a french fry through a puddle of ketchup. “They’d probably accept him easier than you. You’re so pretty. He'd burp and scratch his balls and pull a gun out of an unmentionable crevice.” 

 

“Excuse you--wait for no. I  _ am  _ pretty. You told me earlier.” He steals a fry and risks the wrath of the pointy end of her knife. “I’ve never dated a normal person before.” 

 

Darcy laughs around a cheerful of food, struggling to keep her mouth shut in the process. She swallows dry and takes a quick sip of her coke. “I’m your definition of normal? Or do you just mean poor?” 

 

“Financially disinclined,” Tony sniffs; poor is one of those four-letter words you can't say in mixed company. It's offensive. “So. I have six billion new and burning questions pertaining to the last hour of our life.” 

 

Darcy’s hand disappears under the table, only to reappear with the flask a moment later. She pours a generous amount into her coke, before offering it to him. Tony accepts, drinking it straight with a wince. Warm vodka, how quaint. “You can have one. For now. I’d like to maintain some level of mystery.” 

 

There are just so many to choose from, Tony doesn’t know where to begin. “Babies.” 

 

“Are gross,” Darcy confirms taking a hearty stip of her beverage like she needs the courage to reply. Tony doesn’t love it. She doesn’t have to tell him anything. But he still wants to know. “And no, I cannot have them.” 

 

Tony can’t fathom her pregnant, or with a baby on her fantastic hips.  Given all their fucking, he’d inquired, absently, about birth control and she’d assured him it was taken care of. That had been enough for him. He hadn’t considered it was never an issue. She’d worn a condom with Bruce, and with Clint, but it had never come up with Tony. Hm. “Okay.” 

 

“Just okay?” She flicks a sesame seed off her bun. “You don’t want to know  _ why _ ?” 

“Of course I do.” Tony wants to know everything about her. It's offensive that he doesn't already.  “But---it’s not an issue.” 

 

She looks up at him then, sharp eyes cutting straight through his bullshit. “You don’t want any little Tony’s in the future. Iron Babies.” 

 

“No.” Tony’s never wanted children. He’s never aspired to be a parent. As much as he loves to design, and has an ego you’d expect would want to bust out mini-versions of himself, he’s  _ never  _ wanted children. “Do you?” He---doesn’t think he can budge on the subject if she does want them. Doesn’t think this is an issue in which he can bend. “You could always buy one.” 

 

“No,” she says, with a soft little sigh and Tony feels like a dick for how relieved he is. Darcy’s smile changes a little, something sweet and only for him. “I’ll do the Forbes spread. Pepper won’t mind?”

 

Damn right she will. If Tony has his way, he’ll have her on every cover he can swing. “Pepper will fucking love it. Darcy you----you really were pivotal in making Stark International happen. You turned a five-year plan into a two-year plan. Pepper knows it. ”  _ Forbes _ , to start. Maybe they could do  _ GQ _ together. She could be the first Political Science major to bless  _ Popular Science _ .  “If you’re not on  _ TIME  _ in the next five years, I’ll do something for Cosmo, naked.” He and Pepper were slated for a TIME cover before their break up, but he’s not going to tell Darcy that. She has...hang-ups, where Pepper is concerned. Like Pepper was somehow a better girlfriend for him, barring the fact that the relationship ended in crippling ruin and actual fire. 

 

“Well, that just makes me want to tell TIME no if they ask.” She drums her fingers over the chipped Formica table top. “Thanks for coming with me.” 

 

“Even though I’m drama?” 

 

“Uh,” she raises both eyebrows up, incredulously. “ _ Especially _ because you’re drama. I love drama. Next question.”

 

She said he only got one, but Tony doesn’t mention it. “Are you happy?”  It isn’t what Tony meant to ask but--- he still wants to know. 

 

Darcy looks out the window, to the quiet street corner. “You ever, like...find yourself surrounded by shit that’s so good---and you just know you’re not that good a person? Like - you can’t possibly deserve what you’ve found? So it must be torture? That being this fucking happy----has to be torture because you spend half the time expecting it to blow up in your face, and half your time blind with how fucking good it is?” 

 

“Every time I look at you.” No pretense. No sarcasm. No joke. “For longer than I’d like to admit.”  For once, Tony tells the truth. 

 

He watches, baffled, as a pink blush steels over her cheeks. “Oh,” she says, looking at him through her lashes. “Yeah, Tony. I’m happy.”  

“So we’re just gonna...spend our days torturing ourselves with the notion that we don’t deserve each other because we’re both just so amazing?” 

 

“Modest, too,” she adds, with a little snort. “But I mean---you might have been right, I guess.” She shrugs like she doesn’t want to make a big deal of the admission but, uh yeah, Tony’s not gonna let that go. 

 

“Oh really? About what, exactly?” 

 

“When you said - you know. We’re shitty people, but it might work out because we’re shitty people together.” 

 

“That doesn’t sound like what I said.” Doesn’t sound wrong, per se. But not what he said. 

 

“I’m paraphrasing, you were getting kind of sappy and I just---can’t abide.” She grins, behind her water glass. “I just  _ meant  _ that maybe...You know. We  _ are  _ alike. You know. Attractive and immoral and stuff. And I guess... You know. We could work.” 

 

“We could,” Tony agrees, tapping his shoes against hers under the table. “Thanks for letting me come.” 

 

“Yeah don’t thank me yet,” she says, with a little edge to it. “We still have to go to the reception and---Yeah. The bar better be open.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is every reunion I am forced to attend.

The bar is not open. 

 

“Oh my god, Ryan---are you  _ serious _ ?” Darcy says, staring at the bartender, a bland twenty-six-year-old with a chicken nugget bun tied tight on the top of his head. “That’s---Awful. These are poor people.” 

 

_ These are poor people _ . She sounds--- She sounds like a snob. She sounds like Tony. It’s  _ beautiful _ . 

 

The bartender, Ryan, shrugs. “You’re slumming it with the plebs now, Lewis. Mindy and Danny aren’t made of money, you know. Their parents refused to help, so they had to pay for everything themselves. All they paid for was the pear brandy, and I brought a few bottles for basics but it’s a cash bar, Darcy. You know how it is.  Most these people are probably hitting fifths of Wild Turkey in their car.” 

 

“Listen, Hipster Bun,” Darcy grabs him by the skinny black tie and hauls him closer. “Ryan - I cannot get through this evening if I’m the only one drunk.” 

 

“Well then I hope you’re buying rounds,” Ryan the Bartender says, with an apologetic little frown. He’s looking down Darcy’s dress even as she yanks on his tie, fear of danger lost in the depths of her cleavage. 

 

She lets him go but doesn’t back off. “Yeah, that won’t work. How much to open the bar,” Darcy demands, both hands laid over the counter, shoulders high like she’s ready to fight him. 

 

“Uh - for a group this size?” He eyeballs the little rollaway rack of liquor behind him. “Like fifteen hundred? But I didn’t bring enough---” 

 

“Call it in,” Darcy snaps her fingers. “Bring the good shit, too. No bullshit wine or brandy or whatever. I want  _ booze _ . I didn’t come back to this shit hole for this. This is fucking rude.” She’s never sounded  _ more  _ like snotty, entitled New Money, it’s honestly giving him a stiffy.  “Tony, give him money!” 

 

Oh yeah, he’s hard. He’s certain he’s never heard prettier words from her awful mouth. “Cash or card,” Tony asks, pulling his wallet out. 

 

Ryan takes his AmEx, shifting nervously on his feet as he pulls out an ancient looking credit machine from his portable bar. “Um. I’ll need your ID.” 

 

Tony grins like a shark, and pulls that out too, while Darcy makes herself busy behind the counter, eyeing a bottle of Grey Goose with a curled lip of disdain. She’s bent over just far enough that the bottom curve of her ass peeks from the tiny little dress she’d slipped on after they left the diner. No garters this time - No...Anything.  Tony slaps the card down on the bar when he notices Ryan’s gaze seems a little frozen on her thick, pale thighs. 

 

“Sorry! Sorry! She uh---Used to have this tattoo. On her---Nevermind..” Tony is very curious about said tattoo and it’s absolute absence on her body. He’ll ask later.  Ryan hesitates, pale gaze dancing between the card and Tony’s face. “This um...This says you’re Tony Stark.” 

 

“Correct,” Tony says, snapping his fingers at him. “Or no actually. It says Anthony.” 

 

“Uh huh,” Ryan mumbles, handing it back with a dazed look. His gaze skitters back to Darcy, who has accepted the Grey Goose as good as it gets, and tucked it up under her arm. “Um. Sign here?” He slides a receipt and a pen across the counter.

 

Tony tips him five hundred dollars because he’s absolutely spent more than two g’s at a bar before tipping, so why the fuck not? It’s obscene - it’s almost insulting.  But the kid takes it. He watches the kid eye the receipt with wide, incredulous eyes. “Want me to sign something else, too?”  

 

“ _ Would _ you?” Ryan asks, biting his lip. “Man, no one’s going to believe me.” 

 

Tony signs a white paper napkin, because the world is just ironic that way, and tucks it into Ryan’s shirt like a pocket square. “Here,” he says, holding out his hand. “Give me your phone. You can tag me. I’m a slut for a selfie.” 

 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Darcy mutters, stealing the phone, and snapping a pic of the pair of them. “Call your dad - we need booze!  And I’m taking this.” She holds up the bottle. “This is mine now.” She wanders off, and both Tony and Ryan watch her ass jiggle with every offended stomp of her slutty heels. 

 

“That’s my girlfriend,” Tony tells the hipster bartender, shamelessly smug. That  _ jiggle _ ? That is his jiggle. 

 

Ryan flushes. “Sorry---Sorry---” 

 

“No, she’s super hot,” Tony waves a hand. “I just like saying it out loud. Like...Damn.” 

 

Ryan laughs a nervous little thing that catches Tony’s attention. “She’s sort of a ball buster though, right? I mean, she  _ was _ . I was a junior when she was a freshman, but--- She uh...Broke a lot of hearts.” 

 

“Absolute ballbuster,” Tony confirms, rapping his knuckles on the counter. “But luckily, most the balls she busts these days are to my benefit so I can’t complain. You don’t seem surprised she’s my girlfriend.”

 

“Well. I always thought she’d do something awesome with her life. She was just...way too wild for this place.” Tony wonders what Darcy was like, in high school.  “So...how did you two meet?” 

 

“Oh. She’s my boss.” Tony smirks and pushes up away from the counter. “President of Stark Industries. My ex-girlfriend hired her to spite me and Darcy sort of took over the entire Tower.” 

 

“No shit?” Ryan looks just as impressed as Darcy fucking deserves. “Go Darce’. She did always say she was going to take over the world. Stark Industries is a good place to start.” 

 

He finds Darcy a moment later, going shot for shot with ---- Tony’s pretty sure that’s the guy who officiated the wedding. He’s still got on the clergy collar beneath his black button up and he’s easily Tony’s age. He winces as the vodka burns down his throat, and Darcy knocks back another without so much as flinch. “Father John,” Darcy introduces Tony as he comes to stand beside her. “This is my sugar daddy, Tony. He just opened the bar, so you know, bottoms up, you’re off the clock.” 

 

“When one works for the Lord, one is never off the clock.” The Father stares at him for a long moment but he finishes his last shot. “You always did love a scandal.” 

 

“Good thing I’m Jewish, huh?” She winks at Father John. “Imagine what I could have done with a couple of your altar boys.” 

 

Tony chokes on a laugh and steals the bottle. Father John doesn’t look perturbed in the slightest. “It’s good to see you, Darcy. Give your uncle my best wishes.” 

 

“Do you know everyone in this town?” He slides an arm around her waist even as he slides the bottle back into her hand. 

 

“It’s got a population of less than two-thousand, Tony.” There are more than two thousand people on four floors of the Tower at any given time. “And I...was well known.” She smirks, easy and pleased. “Infamous, even.” 

 

***

 

They mingle, and Tony learns a lot about Darcy in a very short time.  The whole endeavor proves to be one constant roller coaster of white trash delight. Tony’s never felt so out of place in his life, and yet...he wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

 

Darcy’s ‘accidentally’ started three fires in public places. 

 

“Fire Marshal Daniels,” she says, forcing her face into something smooth and expressionless. It takes her a little longer than usual, with her pink cheeks and glassy eyes. Still, Tony thinks Nat would be impressed. “I’m old enough to drink this now. Move along. Nothing to see here.” 

 

Fire Marshal Daniels, a man in his fifties, gives her a shrewd look. His mustache looks like he’s curled it on purpose and---Tony honestly can’t. He  _ can’t _ .  “Try not to set anything on fire.” 

 

“Why, I would  _ never _ . I couldn’t have fit anything flammable in this dress if I tried.” That’s not true. She’s got a small revolver tucked under her left tit, and a taser under the left. “Wanna frisk me and make sure?” 

Daniels does not frisk her. He turns a delightful shade of purple and scowls. “If I catch even so much as a wisp of smoke---” 

 

***

 

Darcy was picked up on indecent exposure  _ three _ times before eighteen. 

 

“Officer Kevin,” She salutes him, with a saucy little wink. “Whoops, Sergeant Kevin. Looking good, dude. The promotion suits you.” She taps his badge. “Long way up from  _ Cadet  _ Kevin. We had some good times, right? Good memories? I’m old enough to drink this,” she adds, just like she’d done for the fire marshal. “I mean, barely but I am.” 

 

“Lewis,” Sergeant Kevin says, looking just over Darcy’s left shoulder. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you fully dressed.” His face turns a quick and vicious red at how that sounds, and Tony can’t hide his smirk. “I mean---It’s nice not to be booking you for lewd behavior in public.” 

 

“Hey, that wasn’t what I was booked for! I wasn’t lewd! I was naked![1]” She grins and toys with his badge again. “Hey but I’m old enough to look at now. Not that it ever stopped you, eh?” 

 

“I---What? No---” 

 

“Aww give him a break, Darce’,” Tony takes pity on the guy, and himself. As much as he likes to see her naked, he’s not ready to haul her bare ass through unknown streets. Maybe when they get back to New York where they can cause a proper scandal. All or nothing, as they say.

 

***

 

Darcy slept with the waitress. And her brother. 

 

“Darcy!” 

 

“You told everyone I had chlamydia,” she tells Katie The Waitress, from behind her rapidly emptying bottle. Tony himself is on his third scotch and soda. He’s content to stay sober and enjoy the show. 

 

“You  _ did _ !” Katie protests, which Tony doesn’t think is a good way to beg forgiveness and appeal that Darcy not fire her husband. 

 

“Yeah,” Darcy rolls her eyes. “That I got from  _ you _ . Left that part out, though, didn’t you?” 

 

Tony has to remind himself that they’re talking about STDs and it’s not hot even if it is lady-sex. 

 

“You had sex with my brother!” 

 

Darcy rolls her eyes so hard, it makes Tony dizzy just to watch. “Please, we both know that doesn’t make him special.” 

 

***

 

Darcy has a lot of cousins that aren’t really cousins. And they’re all fucking  _ rude _ .  Which explains worlds about Darcy’s attitude, sarcasm, and the general sense of worth. 

 

“Darcy, dear! Look at you! All grown up,” a woman only a little older than Darcy calls, grabbing her up by the arms and holding her at arm's length. “You sure aren’t Lewis blood, that’s for certain.” It’s said like a compliment to Darcy’s figure but...Tony’s not sure he’s ever heard anything more backhanded in his life. 

 

“Nope, filthy hooker blood all the way,” Darcy grins. “Maggie,  _ dear _ . I didn’t know you’d had children! Congrats” 

 

Maggie blinks, dropping her hands from Darcy’s arms. “I...I haven’t?” 

 

“Oh.” She tilts her head sideways, giving Maggie a once over, lingering at her hips and middle. “My bad.” 

 

Maggie’s smile goes tight, as she takes a step away from Darcy, and wraps an arm around her stomach. She’s not overweight in the slightest, but Tony figures she deserves the slight. “Who's your date honey?” 

 

“Iron Man. Where’s your date?” She looks at the vacant space beside this Maggie. “Oh. You came alone.” 

 

Tony’s fairly certain Darcy’s doesn’t realize she’s said Iron Man instead of Tony Stark. He cuts in, holding out his hand to take Maggies in a firm shake. “Tony Stark, hi. Nice to meet you. I think. You’re Darcy’s...cousin?” 

 

She’s staring at Tony’s face with wide, incredulous eyes. “Wait---Really?” Her gaze swings back to Darcy, who has the bottle upended and is now  _ chugging  _ the lukewarm vodka, the little glub glub of bubbles loud even over her guply swallows. “Wow Darcy, you’re doing really good for yourself.” 

 

Darcy pulls off the bottle with a hot little gasp. “No one's more surprised than I am, believe me.” 

 

***

 

“Darcy-Anne!” 

 

“That’s not my name,” Darcy mutters, deeply grieved. She presses her face to Tony’s chest and he can feel her counting, slow and careful before she extricates herself with a bright, fake grin. Tony grabs her hand before she can steal the Iron Man gauntlet straight off his wrist, under his suit.  “Emily Flowers!” 

 

“Flowers-Marshall. Some of us got married,” the young woman titters, with a wildly white smile. “But I heard you were working in New York as a secretary! That’s amazing too! So good to see you doing so well for yourself, all things considered. Sorry, I didn’t invite you, Doug and I did a destination wedding. It was...Well. Hawaii isn’t cheap!” 

 

“But I sure am,” Darcy fills in, tipping her bottle forward in salute.  Tony’s momentarily stunned by the sheer cattiness of the cousin. Darcy did warn him, but Tony was unprepared. Luckily, Darcy seems to be holding her own. “Congrats on marrying up. I totally thought Doug was gay, but you showed me!” 

 

Emily seems taken aback by Darcy’s cheerful belligerence. “Er---Thank you, I think. Who's your friend?” 

 

“This is my boyfriend, Tony Stark. He’s a genius and a superhero. Doug's’ an...actuary, right? That’s good, too!” 

 

“Hi,” Tony grins and tucks Darcy up under his arm before she falls right over. “That’s a great nose job. You  _ almost  _ can’t even tell.  Who's your surgeon?” 

 

“I---I haven’t had a nose job.” Emily blinks, wildly at him. She touches her nose, s if to check that it’s there. 

 

“Oh. Well. Nevermind.” Tony can feel Darcy laughing against his chest where she’s pressed her face again. “It was nice to meet you.”  

 

***

“Darcy-Lou,” a deep, rough voice chimes. 

 

“That  _ is  _ my name,” Darcy concedes, leaning heavily on Tony’s arm. “Hey Uncle Donny.” 

 

“I heard you’d be here,” a middle aged man says through a spectacular mustache. “Look at you! Looking like a woman, now,”  he says, with a leer  _ and  _ a laugh as Darcy side steps his attempt to hug her. “Thought they were paying you real good up in the City. Couldn’t afford more of a dress?” Tony tucks Darcy up a little tighter under his arm, turning her body so it’s hid against his. “You grew up real pretty.  Always thought you would.” 

 

“Yes, you told me frequently,” Darcy says, thinly. “Tony, this is Uncle Lou’s younger, grosser brother.” 

 

“Yeah, we’re done here,” Tony steers her away.  Uncle Donny doesn’t seem upset, already tottering his way to some other unsuspecting young woman. “He didn’t---” 

 

“No,” Darcy says firmly and Tony believes her.  “Lou would have killed him.” 

 

***

 

“Do you wanna leave?” Tony asks her, because as much as he loves watching her shut down shitty people, he also knows this can’t be easy. He remembers family gatherings, especially after his parents passed. It was never easy to be the black sheep. 

 

“Nah,” Darcy waves a hand. “Honestly, I’m having fun. Who's next?” 

 

***

 

“Darcy Lewis!” 

 

Two blondes, with heart shaped faces, wearing matching pale green dresses stumble up upon them, with equally matching grins. “Ryan says you  _ bought  _ the bar.”  

 

“Sugar daddy,” Darcy tilts her head toward Tony. “Tony; Mandy and Danny, newly weds. Girls - this is Tony.” 

 

“Damn Darce,” the left one whistles through her teeth. “Tony Stark! That’s---That’s so like you. You did  _ good _ . And you look so good! You look---wow! No freshman fifteen for you, huh?” 

 

Darcy bares her teeth in a facsimile of a smile. “Well I did drop out of college.” He realizes that while she doesn’t look drunk, she’s put away a solid amount of the Grey Goose, and polished off the flask. “Dodged a bullet, I guess.” 

 

“Oh my god, we missed you.” The other blonde bobs her head on an obnoxious laugh, clearly oblivious to the shade Darcy’s throwing. “We’re so happy you could come. Not because of---hot sugar daddies or whatever.  Although -  _ nice _ . Since you deactivate your facebook account - well. We wonder about you is all! The family asks about you all the time, you know.” 

 

“Not much to update.” Darcy rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders. “I dropped out of college to become an assassin. Dropped out of  _ that  _ to be a secretary in New York. Then I had sex with Captain America, the Hulk, Hawkeye  _ and  _ Iron Man. Working on the Widow next, but I think she’s down.It’s been a wild few years.” 

 

“You are so funny!” Bride One laughs brightly, clearly partaking in the open bar. “We were just---we were just talking about how funny you always were. Always with the jokes! So funny!” 

 

“Biggest joke in Byron, right?” She raises a brow at them. “Or do you mean funny looking? Neither of you wanted to be seen with me in highschool. You dodged me at family reunions.” 

 

“Oh no no, you were always gorgeous,” Bride Two says, earnestly, hanging off Bride One. “You just---were always a little too much! But---you know. Clearly that worked for you. You---look amazing. Really. Wow. You just---damn.” Bride One’s expression is turning from drunk-happy to mildly offended, and Tony knows that look. That’s the look Pepper made when Tony looked too long at any woman in particular.  “She looks really good right, Mandy?” 

 

“Really good,” Bride Mandy says, though it’s a little less pleased than before. “We heard you were doing really well for yourself” She looks at Tony, and he’s starting to think that means something else here. Doing really well for yourself. He’s starting to think it’s not much of a compliment at all. “Hey have you seen Todd? He looks real good.” 

 

“Oh Jesus Christ. I’m going to go be somewhere that isn’t here. Congrats on the nuptials ladies. I’ve had sex with you both.” She salutes the brides with the hand holding the bottle of vodka, cheeks a little pinker than they were before.  

 

Both startle at the revelation. He thinks maybe both were secrets Darcy hadn’t yet shared with the class. Woops. Tony hooks a hand around her waist and pulls her away. “Ooookay, sugar. Let’s just...go upset someone else.” 

 

Darcy takes that as initiative to grab the mic from the DJ. “Hi! Hey! How are ya! Gonna cut into that third Madonna throwback. In a row.” She uses Tony’s shoulder to hike herself up on a chair. He dress has rode up so high, they’re all about five seconds to see what she doesn’t have on underneath. He tugs it down with practiced hands, tickling the back of her thighs as he goes. “So--Hey! First, toast to the beloved family lesbians!  Congrats guys - really. Danielle,  you’re a lucky woman! Mandy was---phenomenal in the sack. Seriously. You were okay too. Secondly, where the fuck is Todd McGuire? Because I’d like to get this over with. Todd? Todd McGuire? I’ve been told he looks real good. Is also doing very well for himself? Yeah---Oh yep. There he is. Hey Todd.” She’s got the mic hanging in one hand, her hip resting against Tony’s shoulder. Tony wraps an arm around her knees to keep her steady. “Todd. Todd. Todd. Have you heard? I’m doing really well for myself, considering!” 

 

“Hey Darcy,” the kid in the front says. He doesn’t look anything like Tony, looks more like Steve if anything. Blonde hair pushed back, bright blue eyes, clean cut jaw. Tony doesn’t like him. “You’re making a scene.” 

 

“Some things never change,” she winks at him, and turns to Tony, arms open like a toddler wanting to be picked up. “Help!” Tony obliges, helping her down with a flourish and a spin, kissing her soundly as he extricates the mic from her grip and passes it back to the DJ. 

 

“Hi Todd,” he says, holding out his hand, as he secures the other around Darcy’s waist. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you too,” Todd says, with a surprisingly wry grin. “Iron Man, huh?” 

 

“I moonlight,” Tony grins with too many teeth as he lets the kids hand go without anything too firm.. “You can call me Tony.” 

 

“You wanna---Take her outside. For fresh air?” He tilts his head toward Darcy whose pulled her phone out of her pocket and seems to be---reactivating her Facebook.  Tony smiles. He’s gonna send her a relationship request just to watch her head spin. 

 

He looks back up at Todd. “Have you ever tried to make Darcy do anything she didn’t want to?” 

 

Todd winces. “I---Uh. Yeah. You might say that.  Nice to know some things never change,” he adds, with a lighter, fonder tone. “Darcy - they didn’t tell me you were coming. I asked.” 

 

Darcy tucks her phone back into Tony’s pocket. “They wanted you to come more than they wanted me to come, obviously. Or they wanted us both to come - but hey! We did that once, and look how it turned out?” 

 

“Darcy,” Todd appeals, hands upturned in a white-flag gesture. “I just meant---I didn’t come here to upset you. You...you seem to be doing really well for yourself---” 

 

“What does that fucking mean?” Tony asks, so tired of hearing it. “Why does everyone sound so goddamn surprised?” Because he’s known Darcy less than two years and he can’t imagine her as anything but phenomenal at everything she does. She’s never proven him wrong, at any rate. 

 

Darcy’s jaw ticks. “It means trash is suppose to stay in the dumpster where it belongs, right Todd?” 

 

“I never called you--- Darcy, that isn’t fair.”  People are watching. The reception party - Tony can feel them watching. Like they’ve been waiting all night for Darcy to make this specific scene. 

 

“You wanna go outside, babe?” He squeezes her neck, gently earns himself her gaze. “I could beat his ass for you, old school style. I even brought the suit---” 

 

“Hey, wait---” Todd interjects, a little hysteria in his voice. Tony doesn’t need the iron-suit to kick his ass, but he does like a little dramatic flair. “That’s not....Necessary.” 

 

“You could beat his ass,” Tony suggests. Because Darcy is his self-rescuing Cinderella and more than capable. 

 

“They wanna see,” Darcy waves a hand, at the crowd that’s attempting to look uninvested in the conversation. “Let em’ see. Let’s hash this out, Todd.  Say what you want. I know you’ve got something to say. I’ve been hearing about how good you’re doing,  _ considering _ .” 

 

“I just wanted to say sorry.” And fuck him for sounding so earnest, Tony thinks. He feels like he’s fallen into the plot of Sweet Home Alabama, but fuck if she’s going to ditch Patrick Dempsey for a hilljack upstart. 

 

Alarmingly, Darcy looks---sad. Unexpectedly sad. Not like she’s going to cry, and Tony is especially grateful for that because he’d really have to punch this kid in the face if she cried. 

 

“You wanna go?” He asks again, because this---this isn’t funny. Darcy looks....crushed.  He steers her towards and exit, and she lets him. Todd follows. Outside, the air is crisp but not cold. He wraps his arm around her anyway. 

 

Darcy musters up a little smile for him, and Tony takes what heart he can in it.  No one seems to be recording the events, which seems odd to him, but then - Darcy isn’t a  _ celebrity _ here.  A fight with an ex isn’t worth anything but the novelty to these people. 

 

“Todd’s my ex fiance,” Darcy’s grin is a little grim and Tony fucking called it. This is Sweet Home Alabama - they’re fucking leaving. 

 

“Well, no,” Todd argues, looking a little crestfallen. “You’d have had to say yes. Which you did not.” 

 

“I did not,” Darcy confirms. She looks at Tony, and he watches as she steels herself, and knows she’s going to say something that’s going to hurt. Her, or him. The both of them. Definitely Todd. “I got pregnant. He asked me to marry him. I stopped being pregnant instead.” 

 

“That’s not how it went---” 

 

“That’s exactly how it went,” Darcy cuts him off, sharp and sure. “I didn’t want to marry you. I didn’t want to have a fucking baby. I was sixteen goddamn years old! I had bigger plans! No offense to you and all the other fucks happy to be here.”  She looks at the nearest cluster of said Fucks. “Hi, hey. How you doing? Enjoying the show? Have a drink, it’s on us.” 

 

“You pawned the ring---” 

 

“To pay for the backwater abortion,” Darcy nods hard, mouth curved into the sharpest smile Tony’s  ever seen. “Yes, I did. Yes, I did, and I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry I lost half my fucking uterus to some black market Doctor operating out of a fucking storage unit in Kentucky. It was worth not being fucking married to this town!  Do you know what I do for a living? I make a ridiculous amount of money, fuck my hot boyfriend, and run a billion dollar company like a boss. Because I'm the boss! Not in that order, I don’t think. I’m not sure - I’m actually pretty drunk. I have two assistants! I have a penthouse - I mean, it’s his pent house, but I live there. I---I fucking go to Captain America’s gym. With Captain America!  _ I stole a fucking jet _ ! I’m not sorry I didn’t marry you - I’m not a fucking house wife, and I’d be a shit mother. I’m  _ not _ sorry, so don’t stand in front of me and say you’re sorry, you fucking asshole. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She shrugs, and pulls a face, clearly done here.  “You look good Todd.” 

 

Todd laughs. “Yeah - you too, Darce’.” 

 

***

 

“So,” Tony pulls her into their hotel bed naked,  her dress a puddle on the floor near the bathroom. “That was drama. I thought I was gonna be dumped for Matthew McConaughey.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Nothing, go to bed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this is the part that I struggled with. Because I wrote this into my Darcy-fanon a long time ago and I wanted to keep it but I didn't want to force it. idk. If any of you have ever had to go back to your home town --- IDK. This is what it's like for me. I won't tell you which I made up and which came out of my life. I like to maintain a little mystery too.
> 
> [1] Except for this. I was picked up for indecent exposure SEVERAL times. I just hated clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> chapter two will be the wedding thing


End file.
